


Your Eyes Have Their Silence

by wearingmywings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Barista Dean Winchester, Castiel Needs a Hug (Supernatural), Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mental Health Issues, Mild Angst, Military Castiel (Supernatural), Military Veteran Castiel (Supernatural), Nurse Castiel (Supernatural), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28202694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearingmywings/pseuds/wearingmywings
Summary: Christmas time is busy and stressful for the café. This year, in addition to the usual craziness, Dean deals with a new customer: A man with sad eyes, gentle demeanor and a kind smile.Together the two men find nothing in life is without hurdles, but good company and a gingerbread latte can go a long way to bring warmth to the frosty holiday season.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 129
Collections: #ficwip 2020 gift exchange





	Your Eyes Have Their Silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allmystars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmystars/gifts).



> This Christmas story is a gift for [allmystars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmystars/profile). Merry Christmas!!! :)
> 
> This is a story about friendship, love, trust and support. I hope you enjoy it! <3
> 
> It was beta read by my lovely, amazing friend [Their Profound Bond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theirprofoundbond/pseuds/theirprofoundbond)!!Thank you for your help as always <3
> 
> The title is from the poem [somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond](https://poets.org/poem/somewhere-i-have-never-travelledgladly-beyond) by E.E. Cummings.

**December 1st, Tuesday  
**

Cold wind bites into Dean’s skin as he carries the cardboard boxes inside. Their new bell above the door greets him with a joyful jingle, and he nudges it shut with his foot.

“Are they in there?” Charlie hurries over from behind the counter and dances around him as he walks to a table and puts the boxes down. “Are they?”

Dean takes a box cutter from his pocket and slices through the tape. “Take a look,” he says, and Charlie squeals as she pulls them out of the package. 

The limited edition Star Wars ornaments had been hard as fuck to find, and expensive, and they took a month to arrive, but they were finally here. 

“When’s the tree coming?” She carefully puts the figurines back in their box.

“Tomorrow I think,” Dean says. “Sam said he’d drive by around four?”

“Awesome. We can decorate it after work!”

Dean smiles at her excitement and squeezes her shoulder briefly. “Yeah, kiddo. Let’s get to work though, or Bobby’ll kill us.” 

“Oh please,” Charlie says as she walks behind the counter and puts on her apron. “His grumpy shtick is nothing more than that.”

“Either way,” Dean says. “I don't want to open late. We got an hour, and I want to hear what everyone thinks about the new drinks.”

“Aye aye,” Charlie shouts as she disappears through the dark wooden door into the kitchen.

Dean sighs as he carries the heavy boxes behind the counter. He’ll put everything away later. Still, his eyes fall on the box he knows has candles and tinsel in it, and after a brief internal debate he opens it and starts pulling out stuff. A few sparkly dark red candles to put next to the register, unlit, just catching the light of their many warm lamps. He winds a dark green garland of pine around the small spiral staircase that leads upstairs to the office and employee bathroom. As he walks back to the box he catches sight of movement outside the café, and looks towards the door. 

A man’s standing there, dark hair untidy and shoulders drawn up against the cold wind. He’s wearing scrub pants, boots and a puffer coat. It looks mismatched but weirdly endearing. He seems to be reading the signs on their door, but doesn’t leave even after he seems to finish reading, and Dean watches him look at his outdated phone and deflate a little. He’s scowling, and Dean doesn’t like the expression on his strikingly beautiful face. 

Dean walks to the door, unlocks and opens it a crack. The man takes a slight step backward.

“Hey,” he says, but stops there because he hasn’t really thought any further. 

“Hello,” the man says. “I’m sorry, you’re not open yet, I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” Dean says. “What would you wanna get? I can make you something, but only to go.”

The man’s expression softens a little. “Anything hot and caffeinated, I’m not picky.”

Dean nods. “Got a sweet tooth?”

“Not particularly.”

“Alright, gimme five minutes.” Dean closes the door again and walks over to the coffee machine. He starts making a double shot latte, sprinkles a little cocoa powder and cinnamon on top and takes delight in using one of their new stencils to create a little Christmas tree shape on top of the milk foam. He goes for one of their transparent domed lids and a swirly straw, and carries it back to the man outside, who lights up as he sees the drink in Dean’s hand.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks as Dean opens the door.

“Three fifty,” Dean says and hands the cup over.

He gets the money counted perfectly, and he watches the man to see if he spots the festive design on the milk foam. 

He does. He freezes for a second, lifts his cup to look closer, lets it sink again. The scowl is back on his face. He nods at Dean and quickly walks away down the street. 

“What was that,” Dean mutters to himself.

  
  


**December 2nd, Wednesday  
**

  
  


Dean’s swinging the broom handle around like he’s dancing with it, Christmas music is blaring and Charlie jumps around the tree while putting up the Star Wars ornaments. There are pine needles on the floor and it smells heavenly, like forest and wood and coffee and cinnamon. 

Dean finishes sweeping the floor, then rearranges the string lights that wind their way all along the wooden beams of the partly open ceiling. Some have glass snowflakes hanging off them that are turning gently and glinting in the light, and Dean loves nudging them. As he turns to pick up a stray receipt from under a table he sees the man from yesterday walk past the shop. He stops for a moment and they look at each other through the glass, but then he hurries away again.

  
  


**December 7th, Monday  
**

  
  


Dean yawns as he opens another package of napkins to stock up the counter. The warmth in the shop and the heavy smell of cinnamon and vanilla makes his eyes droop; he regrets staying up late to play board games with Charlie and Sam. It’s his first early shift in a week, and he hadn't missed the crankiness of their morning rush customers. 

There’s a knock, and he looks towards the front of the shop. There’s a dark figure standing there, shoulders hunched and Dean takes a few steps towards the entrance when he realizes it’s the cute but weird guy from last week. He walks over and unlocks the door.

“Hello,” the man says. “Could I have a coffee please?”

Dean hesitates. “You know we open in like an hour, right?”

“Yes,” the man says, “but my shift starts in ten minutes. I’ll pay extra?”

He looks cold and miserable, and Dean sighs. “Don’t worry about it. Same as last time?”

The man nods, and Dean closes the door again. He’d love to let him in, but insurance reasons and not actually knowing the guy keeps him from doing so. He hurries in making the coffee, picks a different Christmas pattern to create with cocoa powder. Maybe the guy doesn’t like Christmas trees? Allergic to pine needles? Dean opts for a Santa silhouette, executes it perfectly and carries the drink outside.

A gloved hand holds out a five dollar bill, and Dean drops one dollar fifty into his hand as he takes the bill. “Enjoy,” he says.

“Thank you,” the man replies. He looks at his coffee, makes a sad face, and leaves without another word.

“What is it with this dude,” Dean mumbles to himself as he walks back into the shop and locks the door behind him.

  
  


**December 12th, Saturday  
**

  
  


It’s late, and Dean’s sitting in the little upstairs office talking to Bobby, while Charlie cleans downstairs. 

“We definitely need to make more cinnamon rolls,” Dean says. “The morning crowd goes nuts when they’re warm, too.”

  
Bobby nods and takes a few notes. “Anything else?”

“We got a call this afternoon from Sandover, they asked if we could cater a meeting they’ve got on Tuesday. Would be thirty cinnamon rolls and twenty chocolate muffins.”

“Tuesday?” Bobby scowls. “That's not even two full days of prep. The hell are they thinking?”

Dean shrugs. “They said they’d pay extra, like, big extra. I told them yes, it’s their first order with us, could turn into more. I’ll take care of most of the work, and Charlie said she’d help.”

“Fine,” Bobby says. “That it?”

“One more thing.” Dean hesitates; he feels weird asking. “There’s this guy who comes by often, usually before we open? He gets a coffee and always looks like someone pissed in his cereal. You know him? Uh, scrubs, blue eyes, dark hair?”

“I know him,” Bobby says, then smirks. “But not because I noticed the color of his eyes.”

Dean feels his face grow warm.

“His name’s Castiel,” Bobby says. “Been comin’ here for years, and I’ve been giving him stuff outside of opening hours. Got a rough job. He’s good people. Forgot to mention him, since you took over my early shift he’s gonna be a regular thing. Won’t show up every morning, but usually at the same time.”

“I’ll make sure to hook him up with coffee then,” Dean says, and Bobby nods.

  
  


**December 15th, Tuesday  
**

  
  


Dean’s so busy helping Charlie with getting the muffins out of the oven that he doesn’t notice anything else, right up until he puts a few of them into the display case at the counter. He happens to look up to check how much time is left until they open, and there’s Castiel outside, but he’s leaving. Dean hurries to the door, unlocks it and opens it.

“Hey!” he shouts, and Castiel jumps a bit and turns around. “Did you want a coffee? I’m sorry, I was in the back.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel says, and Dean can barely hear him. “If you’re busy I’ll just—”

“Come in,” Dean says. “I’ve got time.” 

He doesn’t, not really. But when Bobby says someone is good people, and treats them well, then they’re worth a little extra stress in Dean’s book. Especially if they look like _Castiel_.

Castiel hesitates, and Dean just waves him over again. He holds the door open and Castiel steps hesitantly inside. There’s snow stuck to his boots, and he’s getting the entryway all wet and dirty, but Dean doesn’t mind. He’ll clean it later.

“The usual?”

“Yes,” Castiel says. “Please. Could I also get uhm,” he peers around Dean, “something to eat? I’m not sure what you have this early.”

“Just made chocolate muffins if you like those? They’re still warm.” 

  
Castiel lights up a little at that, and Dean grins at him before walking behind the counter. He starts making the coffee, and while it drips into a to-go cup he carefully takes out a warm muffin. 

“Want a napkin? Though we had a decoration accident and I still have glitter on my hands, I can’t guarantee it won’t end up on the napkin.”

“I’ll risk potential glitter contamination,” Castiel says, and his eyes sparkle with amusement. “It sounds devastating, of course. I hope you can recover.”

“I’ll call my doctor later,” Dean says. He swaddles the muffin in snowflake patterned napkins. The coffee machine is still working, so he leans on the counter.

He feels weird knowing Castiel’s name but not vice versa, so he introduces himself finally. “I’m Dean by the way,” he says.

“Castiel,” Castiel, says. “But the spelling is a bit difficult, so Cas is okay. Just not Cassie, please.”

“Castiel or Cas, got it. Nice to meet you.” 

Cas smiles gently. "Likewise, Dean." 

The coffee machine beeps and Dean opts for the snowflake stencil and shakes cocoa powder over it. 

“All done,” he says. “That’s five even.”

Cas hands him a five dollar bill. “Thank you,” he says. “And thank you for allowing me to come inside for a moment. I understand it’s against the rules, and I really appreciate it.”

“Chicago winters really aren’t messing around with the wind,” Dean says and nods. “And no worries. Bobby said he knows you, so I figured it’s okay to let you in.”

There’s a strange look on Cas’ face now. “What did Bobby say?” 

“Just that he knows you, and that you’re good people.” Dean wipes crumbs off the counter. “He’s not usually that complimentary, so that’s high praise coming from him.”

Cas still looks concerned, but the expression softens when he looks at his coffee. He looks past Dean at the clock, and sighs.

“I have to go,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Dean says. “Have a good day. See you tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow,” Cas says. "You have a good day as well." He leaves. Dean locks the door behind him, watches him hold the muffin in the crook of his arm as he pulls his scarf tighter around him.

  
  


**December 16th, Wednesday  
**

  
  


It’s fifteen minutes past the usual time Cas stops by, and Dean’s nervous. Did he miss his train? Did he oversleep?

He entertains the idea of waiting with a coffee and muffin at the door, but discards it. That just seems too eager. He does, however, decide to make a coffee. If Castiel comes in within the next few minutes he can take it, otherwise Dean will just drink it himself. 

As he’s taking the cup out from under the machine there’s a frantic knock on the door. 

“It’s open,” Dean yells and waves. 

Cas seems unsure but comes inside. Dean walks over to him with his coffee and muffin. He hands it over, and Cas looks so confused that it’s just adorable.

“I was guessing you were running late,” Dean says gently. “I wanted to make sure I’m not gonna make it worse.”

“Thank you,” Cas says, and he smiles at Dean. “My alarm clock malfunctioned and it didn’t wake me. It was awful,” he says. He hands Dean a crumpled bill and turns to the door. 

“I hope your day improves,” Dean says as he holds the door open for him. Cas hurries outside and Dean watches him.

Dean locks the door, and takes the mop to clear the muddy snow right away. When the wood is clean he sticks it back into the bucket and is about to go into the kitchen when he sees a group of people walk towards Cas, two people clearly running into him, and Dean watches him fall. He doesn’t think, just tears open the door and runs outside. 

The group had changed to the other side of the street after, so there’s no one but Cas and Dean on the pavement. Dean gets to him quickly, and his stomach drops.

The coffee is half splattered in the snow, half on Cas’ gloves and pants. The muffin’s on the ground, smushed as if it’s been stepped on, and he can see Cas’ hands tremble.

“Hey,” Dean says, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, come on. I got you.”

Casl looks at him, nods shakily and Dean’s startled by the fear in his eyes. Dean checks to make sure there’s nothing on the pavement, then guides Cas back to the café. Inside he calls for Charlie.

  
She comes out of the kitchen smiling, but it freezes on her face when she looks at them.

“What's wrong?”

“Can you get us a glass of water?”

“Of course,” Charlie says, and hurries. She sets the glass on a table in the corner, close to the counter but not quite in the middle of the café. She disappears into the back again, and Dean’s thankful for the privacy.

“Okay, let’s sit you down.” He guides Cas to a chair, and he sits. Dean takes the chair next to him, and watches Cas.

“Did you get hurt?”

  
Cas shakes his head. “Maybe a few bruises,” he says, and his voice quivers a bit. “Nothing serious.”

Dean opts for productivity over concern. “Do we need to call someone? Since you’re late?”

“I should,” Cas says. His voice is still unsteady, and he fidgets.

“I can call for you,” Dean says. “If you’re okay with that.”

  
Cas nods and hands Dean his flip-phone. Dean makes the call, mentions a sore throat for the reason Cas isn’t calling himself, and Cas is excused for the day. He still looks a bit pale, so Dean just waits. After a few minutes he carefully puts a hand on Cas’ forearm. When there’s no adverse reaction he keeps it there, and waits again.

He has a guess on what’s happened. It wasn’t a good day for anyone when they realized Bobby’s PTSD could get triggered from a few mundane things, but Dean and Sam helped him through and because of this, Dean’s pretty confident in helping Cas.

In small increments, Cas relaxes. Dean can feel the muscles of his arm loosening, his breathing slows down, and he looks a lot less panicked. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says suddenly. 

“What for?” 

  
Cas makes a broad gesture with his hand. “This. It’s a bit awkward.”

“It’s fine,” Dean says. “That’s what friends are for.”

Cas looks at him again. “Friends?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, and gives him what he hopes to be an encouraging smile. “At least we must be friends _now_.” 

“I’d like that,” Cas says, and the sincerity in his voice brings a smile to Dean’s face.

As Cas grabs for the water, Dean sees how red the skin on his hands is. Their coffee isn’t hot enough to injure, but it’s still hot enough to hurt a bit. 

“Do your hands hurt?” Dean asks, and Cas looks at them, then shakes his head.

“The skin feels a bit warm, but it’s not painful. They’re mostly terribly dry from the air and disinfectant, so they always look a bit rough.”

  
Dean discards every thought about what they would feel like. He opts for asking something productive. “Do you want a new coffee?”

“Yes, and eating something sounds good too,” Cas says. “I think my blood sugar is a bit low now.”

“That I can do,” Dean says, and he grins. He works fast as he makes Cas a new coffee, and brings two muffins over to the table before sitting down again. 

“So,” Dean says, peeling off the muffin paper. “You work in a hospital?” 

Cas nods. “I’m a nurse.”

“That’s awesome,” Dean says. 

“Thank you,” Cas says, and he seems a bit surprised. He takes a big bite of his muffin, and there's a little crumb on his lower lip. Cas’ tongue darts out to take it away, and Dean’s eyes snap to the small movement. “I work in the geriatrics ward, and I take work home with me most days. It’s difficult.”

Dean frowns. “I’m sorry, that sounds exhausting.”

“It’s alright,” Cas says as he finishes his coffee. “I wanted to help, which is why I chose this job.”

“Can I ask you something?” Dean takes a bite of his own muffin and watches Cas’ shoulders stiffen.

“Yes, but I’m not sure if I’ll answer.”

“That’s fine,” Dean says. “Do you not like Christmas?”

Cas looks surprised. “Why do you ask?”

“You never like the Christmas designs I make on your coffee, but you liked the generic winter ones.”

Cas’ face softens, and his eyes are gentle. “You noticed.”

“Of course. I pay close attention to my favorite customer.” Dean grins, can’t resist the slight flirting, doesn’t know if Cas even remotely plays for his team, but it makes the slightest smile appear on his friend’s face, so he counts it as a win.

“Many people where I work are left alone on Christmas,” Cas says. “The staff spends a lot of time and energy on making a hospital stay during the holidays nice, and most patients like what we do, but I’m always upset when I see how few visitors some patients get.”

“Oh,” Dean says. “That makes sense.”

“I don’t—” Cas starts, pauses to fumble with a napkin. “I don’t have anyone to celebrate Christmas with, so I usually work. It’s not my favorite time of the year.”

Dean gets an idea. “Are you working this year too?”

Cas shakes his head. “No. I’ll probably be just home.”

“Come to us on Christmas!” Dean grins at him. “We always have a big dinner on the 25th, lots of extended family, lots of food.”

“I’m not family,” Cas says, and Dean shrugs.

“Technically only my brother is family of those people,” Dean says. “But who cares about blood? Family doesn’t end there.”

Cas pauses. He finishes his muffin before speaking again. “I’ll think about it,” he says, and he sounds sincere.

“You want to give me your number?” Dean’s heart speeds up a tiny bit at how straightforward he’s being, but he tries to play it cool by shoving the rest of his muffin into his mouth.

Cas nods and writes his number down on a napkin, adding his name and a little bee next to it, and Dean feels warm.

“I should get going,” Cas says. “Don’t worry, I’m going home.”

“Sounds good,” Dean says. "Not to sound like a mother hen, but you look too tired to do anything but going home." 

"I feel like I just ran a marathon," Cas says, and gets up. 

He pulls on his big puffer coat, and even though he’s by no means a small guy he still looks a bit lost in it. Dean decides to be brave.

“Hey,” he says, and Cas turns to look over at him. “Can I hug you?”

Cas looks surprised again. “Yes,” he says. 

Dean steps towards him and opens his arms. Cas steps into them, his arms around Dean’s shoulders and Dean thinks they fit together nicely. Sure, it’s a bit awkward with the puffy coat, but it’s still nice.

They hold it for longer than Dean would normally hug people, and when Cas pulls back his hair tickles Dean’s cheek.

“Thank you for today,” Cas says.

“Anytime,” Dean says. “I’ll text you so you’ve got my number. If you need anything, call me.”

Cas nods. “You too.”

They walk to the door together, and Dean’s a bit sad to watch him go. Cas waves at him, his blue gloves coffee stained but dry, and Dean waves back. 

  
  


**December 20th, Sunday  
**

_Me_

_i’ve got a ton of butter, sprinkles and a cookie recipe with your name on it in my kitchen_

Dean nervously sends the message, and busies himself with stirring the pasta sauce, made from scratch after a new recipe. While that’s bubbling happily on the stove, he takes out the other ingredients, and as he’s measuring some sugar, his phone beeps.

**Cas**

**That sounds wonderful. Am I correct in guessing those cookies will be eaten by us later?**

_Me_

_that’s the plan. you in?_

He looks for parchment paper, and finds it in a drawer he has clearly never organized before.

**Cas**

**Yes. Where do I need to show up for this incredibly intriguing plan?**

_Me_

_3417 oak st_

It takes another two minutes for Cas to reply again, and Dean sniffs the tiny vial of vanilla flavouring.

**Cas**

**I’ll need about forty minutes with the bus. Is that okay?**

_Me_

_yeah! i can drive you home. i got stuff on the stove or i’d come pick you up too._

**Cas**

**No problem. See you in a bit. :)**

Dean melts a little at the cute smiley face. He checks his hair in the bathroom mirror, realizes it looks weird, then notices pasta sauce over one arm. Fully aware that their meeting is not a date he shrugs and jumps into the shower. Can’t hurt to look his best anyway.

He’s dressed and downstairs to take care of the sauce when the doorbell rings. Dean hurries to open the door, maybe a bit too forcefully, and tries to conceal this with a cool pose. That intention ends up in the trash when he stumbles and almost smashes his face into the door, but catches himself.

“Uh, hey,” he says and grins at Cas, who looks at him with a mix of worry and amusement. “Come in?”

Cas takes off his wet and snowy boots, and Dean takes note of the jeans he’s wearing today. He offers to take Cas' coat, and tries not to stare--he's never seen Cas without scrubs _and_ his jacket. Dean smushes his own jackets a bit to fit Cas’ on a hook next to them.

“It smells amazing in here,” Cas says. “What are you making?”

“Just regular pasta sauce,” Dean says as he walks with Cas into the open kitchen. “I figured since we’re making dessert we can have dinner as well. You want anything to drink?”

  
“Water would be great,” Cas says, and Dean gestures for him to sit on one of the barstools at the counter. 

“I’m sorry, I really would’ve come to pick you up, but couldn’t leave the food on the stove,” Dean says. 

“Oh no, it’s okay,” Cas shakes his head. “I’m used to taking a little longer everywhere.”

Dean hums and turns down the heat on the sauce. “It’s pretty much done,” he says. “Wanna get started on the cookies? We can totally use only the winter themed cutters and not the Christmas ones.”

Cas smiles at his hands. “We can use whichever ones you like. I’m not gonna make cookie rules in someone else's house.”

“Cookie democracy,” Dean says. “Let’s go then. I measured the sugar, but nothing else since I didn’t know if you liked baking too or just the decorating part.”

“My kitchen isn’t great, so I don’t get around to baking much,” Cas says as he gets up and stands beside Dean. He picks up a bowl and puts it on the scale, then starts to pour flour into it. “I’m happy to do it with you.”

Dean’s heart goes a bit fuzzy at that, and he hides his smile by taking out the butter and eggs. 

Together they whip up the batter in record time, with only minimal accidents such as a few pieces of eggshell in Cas’ hair and flour on Dean’s shirt. Cas apologizes and says his hand hurts today, so Dean does most of the rolling out of dough.

Dean’s kind of excited to show Cas his enormous cookie cutter collection; he’s sorted it by themes: winter, Christmas, geek, and miscellaneous. Dean makes a few little Santas, Cas creates a bunch of different sized snowflakes, and while Dean combs through a box to find his Death Star shape he sees Cas rifle through the miscellaneous box. He finds the assortment of differently sized penis shapes, and he holds one up.

“Brave choice,” Dean says, and he hopes his nervousness doesn’t show.

Cas nods at him with a serious face. “To boldly go.”

The next thirty minutes are spent like this; with them creating enough cookies to feed the entire city. Dean watches Cas, tickles more Star Trek quotes out of him as he makes penis cookie after penis cookie, and he falls a little bit in love.

*

  
While the cookies cool they eat dinner. Dean makes spaghetti at Cas’ request, and they settle down on the sofa. Dean puts his feet up on the coffee table to make Cas feel comfortable, and so Cas curls up a bit, his plate on his lap.

“This sauce is truly outstanding,” Cas says, and Dean’s cheeks warm.

“You’re forced to say that since I invited you,” Dean says. “How do I know you’re not just being nice?”

“I’d never lie about something as important as pasta,” Cas says, and promptly gets sauce on his shirt.

They turn on the TV, let it run in the background and they make fun of whatever’s on, talking to each other in between. Cas has his socked feet folded under him, sitting slightly turned towards Dean. There’s tomato sauce on Dean’s henley, Cas _still_ has eggshell pieces in his hair, and it’s toasty with the heat on high. Snow is falling quietly outside, illuminated by the colorful string lights around Dean’s porch. 

“Can I ask something?” Cas asks and sets his empty plate on the coffee table. 

“Shoot,” Dean says, and stacks his plate on Cas’.

“What exactly did Bobby say to make you start letting me into the café before it’s open?” 

“He said you’re good people.” Dean leans back a bit, angles himself more to Cas. “That was enough for me. Why are you so worried?”

“I don’t really talk to people a lot,” Cas says. “I don’t have friends. I spend most of my time with either my books or my plants. It was strange to hear Bobby was talking about me.”

“Well,” Dean says, “that’s a lie. You got me, I’m your friend. Count Charlie in if you talk about Star Trek with her.”

Cas’ face brightens at that. “That sounds nice.”

Dean grins. They look at each other for a moment, before Dean lets his grin fade. There’s something he has to ask, but he dreads it.

“Can I ask you something now?”

Cas gestures for him to go ahead, so Dean does.

“On Wednesday,” Dean says, “I’m pretty sure you either had a massive panic attack, or—”

Cas looks at him with sad eyes. “Or?”

“Or you got triggered?” Dean finishes. 

“The latter,” Cas says. “I’m sorry you had to take care of that mess.”

“Friends do that,” Dean says without hesitation. “But I’m asking because I know what PTSD looks like. Bobby’s a vet and so was my dad. I went through this with both of them. I just wanted to know if you’re okay, because it worried me.”

Cas isn’t looking at Dean, his jaw set and eyes far away.  
  
“I’m a veteran too,” he says after a few minutes. “I had to stop therapy because I lost my job and insurance. There’s,” Cas swallows, “there are some things I haven’t worked through yet. But I can’t afford help at the moment.”

Dean rubs a hand over his face. “I’m really fucking sorry Cas.” Dean thinks for a moment, and he remembers something. “Has the VA been any help?”

“I’m on a list,” Cas says. “Now I just have to wait.”

“Sometimes I hate our healthcare system."

Cas makes a face. "Only sometimes?"

"Touché," Dean says. "If you ever want to talk some stuff out, just call me. Maybe I can even help a little. I’ve been there before.”

“Mental health issues?”

“Kind of a bit of everything. I know what trauma feels like, and feeling like there’s nothing to be happy about. It took a long time, but I’m getting better, too. It’s exhausting work. ”

Cas picks at a loose thread on his sleeve. “I was a Sergeant First Class,” he says. “Everyone kept telling me how impressed they were by what I accomplished at a young age, but I don’t see it that way. They promoted me before they found out about my preferences, and I was honorably discharged at 29.”

Dean’s confused. “Preferences?”

Cas looks at him. “For cock.”

“Oh,” Dean says. “Can’t fault you for that I guess.”

Cas gives him a small smile. “It’s not like I’ve lived the gay life of my dreams.”

“Making a bunch of dick shaped cookies sounds pretty gay to me,” Dean says. “You’re doing okay I’d say.”

“Do you, uhm,” Cas stumbles over himself, “Do you also?”

“What?” Dean laughs, but as he sees Cas starting to look uncomfortable he throws him a lifeline. “Like cock? Absolutely. My favorite thing right after pie.”

They give each other dopey smiles, and Cas looks like a weight has lifted off him.

“Thank you,” Cas says. “I’ve never really spoken about this.”

Dean nudges him gently. “I’m here for any talks you want to have, whether it's feelings, dicks, cars or plants, though I know absolutely nothing about plants.”

“We should talk about cooking some time,” Cas suggests.

Dean nods. “We can also just cook together.”

“I’d enjoy that,” Cas says, and he nudges Dean back. 

Dean drives him home a few hours later with a Tupperware box of decorated cookies on Cas’ lap. The comfortable atmosphere had Dean smiling all evening, and his cheeks feel sore when he drives home again.

  
  
  
  
  


**December 21st, Monday  
**

Dean writes ‘ _Movie night @ 8pm my house?_ ’ on Cas’ coffee cup, and tells Charlie to only use that cup for when Cas comes by. 

“Why don’t you do it yourself?”

“Can’t,” Dean says. “Bobby needs help upstairs and I need to get this stuff done ASAP. Thanks!” He hurries upstairs after she rolls her eyes and nods.

He works on the bills, prints paperwork and is placing an order for coffee beans when his phone vibrates.

**Cas**

**Only if you have popcorn.**

Dean grins and texts back right away.

_Me_

_ofc i have popcorn. want me to pick you up?_

**Cas**

**I can catch a ride with a colleague that lives in your neighborhood. See you tonight. :)**

Dean does a fist pump and doesn’t even feel silly about it. Another comfortable night in with Cas. There are little butterflies in his belly, and he needs to put more effort into focusing on his work.

*

Dean takes a luxuriously long shower and spends five minutes arranging pillows and a throw blanket folded neatly on his couch. He stares at it, shakes his head and pulls out his phone.

_Me_

_just in theory_ , _how soon can i make a move without it being weird_

**_Queen C_ **

**_People hook up in bar bathrooms after five minutes. Just see how it feels <3_ **

“Typical answer,” Dean mumbles. He knows there’s no sure way of knowing anything, but sometimes he’d still like to have guaranteed success, especially if it’s with someone he’s come to like this much this quickly.

Before he can get lost in plans, the doorbell rings. When Dean opens it, Cas waves to a blue car and it drives off. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey,” Dean says. “Come in.”

Cas takes off his shoes and puts his jacket on the same hook as last time.

“What are we watching?” Cas asks and Dean leads them into the kitchen.

“You asked about my favorite movies, so we could watch Indiana Jones or Star Wars.” Dean opens the fridge and takes out a beer for himself. “Want anything to drink?”

Cas peers past him into the fridge and lights up. “I’d love a grapefruit lemonade.”

“Figures,” Dean says and laughs at Cas’ unsure expression. “I only have it because Sam loves it. You guys need to meet.”

“I’d like to meet him,” Cas says as Dean hands him the lemonade. “You speak so highly of him, he must be great.”

Dean smiles dumbly at his beer. Sam and Cas would get along wonderfully, he’s sure. They walk into the living room and sit down on the couch, a bit closer together than last time. Dean hopes it’s because of him, and not just because they’ll be facing the TV this time instead of each other.

“So, which one do you pick? We can watch only one or more depending on if you like it.”

“Which one do you like best?”

Dean sets his beer down, gets up and pulls out his slightly battered box set of Star Wars. He shows it to Cas. “It’s my ride or die,” he says. 

  
“I look forward to seeing what you like about it so much,” Cas says as Dean slides in the DVD, then sits back down next to him. 

When Dean reaches over to get another pillow their thighs brush, and neither one pulls away. The movie starts, Episode IV, and as they settle in more comfortably they end up with their sides flush, and Dean gets goosebumps at the warmth that radiates from Cas.

It’s been a while since he’s seen the movie, so Dean’s actually pretty focused on it. When Cas comes back from a bathroom break, he sits even closer to Dean. They’re pressed together now, and Dean tries to peer at him from his peripheral vision. Assembling every ounce of bravery he can muster up he slowly lifts his arm and lets it rest on the back of the couch.

Cas stiffens for a beat before relaxing again. The movie continues. The popcorn bowl is in Dean’s lap since they’re too close now for any space between them. A few times they reach in at the same time, and Dean’s heart flutters a bit at the ridiculous rom-com-ness of it. He loves it.

Towards the end of the movie, Cas yawns. Dean looks at him and suddenly Cas’ head is leaning against his shoulder. His hair tickles Dean’s nose, and he smiles as he slides his hand from the back of the couch to rest around Cas’ shoulder. 

The last ten minutes of the movie are spent like this, and when the credits roll neither of them move. 

“Did you like it?” Dean asks.

“I did.” Cas shifts slightly but stays put. “I’m still a bit confused about why we didn’t start with the first one, though.”

Dean laughs. “It’s the first one that was made, so you’re getting the original experience.”

“That’s odd, but I’ll trust your judgement.” 

Dean grins and pats Cas’ shoulder while Cas yawns again, twice.

“I feel like you might be tired,” Dean says and gently nudges Cas, who sits back up and looks at Dean with slightly bloodshot eyes.

“Today was exhausting,” he says. “I’m sorry, I really enjoy spending time with you, but I think I should get home soon.”

“Oh yeah, sure!” Dean gets up and collects the empty bottles and popcorn bowl. “I’ll just put this away and then I can drive you.”

Cas stands up too and tries to smooth his mussed hair. His henley is all crinkled from the side he was leaning against Dean, one of his socks has a hole, and Dean wants to cuddle up with him for hours.

As they put on shoes and jackets, Dean gets an idea.

“Do you think the other nurses would like cookies and muffins?”

Cas looks up at him as he’s tying his shoes. “Of course,” he says. “Why are you asking?”

“I could bring some over on Friday,” Dean says. “If I know today that I need to make some extra then I’ve got time.”

Cas rises again and gives Dean a gummy smile. “The others would love that,” he says. 

Dean nods. “I can text you details tomorrow.”

“Are you moonlighting as Santa?” 

“I can show you my impressive light-up hat collection.”

*

The drive to Cas’ is short and quiet. At a stoplight Dean looks at him. The lighting makes his nose look sharper, the fullness of his lips seems more pronounced. He wishes he could stare at him all the time. 

The crinkle of Cas’ jacket and the blinker clicking are the only noises for a few breaths before the light turns green and they drive on. A few minutes later Dean parks in front of Cas’ apartment complex. He turns the engine off and quietness falls over them.

It’s still snowing, and the streetlight illuminates Cas’ hands in his lap. 

“Thank you for inviting me over again,” Cas says, and his voice parts the comfortable silence. “It was lovely.”

Dean turns towards him slightly. “Thank you for coming over. We can watch one of your DVDs next time. I’m open to pretty much anything.”

Cas smiles, and Dean smiles right back.

“I’ll text you.” 

Cas nods again, and his eyes are gentle. Dean reaches out slowly, lays his hand on Cas’. Cas puts his right one on top of Dean’s for a moment before reaching for the door.

“Thank you for today. Good night, Dean,” Cas says and gets out. He waves as he closes the door, and Dean waves back.

He waits and watches Cas walk to the apartment complex, unlock the door and disappear inside, then drives home.

  
  


**December 22nd, Tuesday  
**

  
  


_Me_

_[Picture attached] look at this perfect muffin!!_

_Me_

_i just grabbed a jumbo size bag of cheetos, and stocked up on some lemonade. wanna watch something together soon?_

  
  
  


**Cas**

**Breathtaking muffin! And yes, that sounds amazing. I’ll bring one of my DVDs, Wings of Desire. I think you’d like it. :)**

_Me_

_i’m sure i will :) sounds like a great plan_

**December 23rd, Wednesday**

_Me_

_[Picture attached] i made bread for the first time and if that doesn’t look like a ballsack call me blind_

**Cas**

**Your ballsack is lovely. :)**

_Me:_

_;)_

  
  


**December 24th, Thursday  
**

  
  


Dean’s cleaning the tables when Bobby walks over to him.

“Do you know what time Castiel’s coming to dinner?”

“No,” Dean says and he goes to town on a persistent stain on the wood. “He hasn’t texted me back.”

“Oh stop it,” Bobby says. 

Dean straightens and looks at Bobby with furrowed brows. “What?”

“He’s prolly just busy,” Bobby says. “You’re going over there tomorrow anyways, just ask.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, okay. I’m just nervous.”

“With your table manners I’d be too,” Bobby says. “Fix those before your boyfriend dumps you for them tomorrow.”

Dean reddens. “Not my boyfriend.”

“Yet,” Charlie yells from the kitchen.

“Not helpful,” Dean shouts back. 

Bobby rolls his eyes and ruffles Dean’s hair as he walks past and disappears upstairs.

When Dean leaves an hour later he makes a detour and drops off one of their limited edition gift cards in Cas’ mailbox.  
  
  
  


**December 25th, Friday  
**

  
  


All of the cafè’s tables have been pushed together, and they’re preparing for the big dinner later.

“Would you stop looking at the clock,” Bobby says. “Go! We got this.”

Dean looks up from the place setting he’s laying. 

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Bobby and Charlie say. 

Dean raises his hands in a mock gesture of surrender before collecting the three big boxes from the kitchen. He bundles up against the icy winds, plops a Santa hat onto his head as a last minute decision, and slowly makes his way to the hospital, mindful of the precious cargo.

He walks into the ER that’s busy as always, and he feels monumentally stupid with his hat. He walks up to the reception desk and waits until the woman behind it has finished her phone call. She seems stressed.

“Um, hi,” he says. “I was looking for the nurses station of the geriatrics ward?”

“Fourth floor, it’s pretty central. Elevators are down there.” She points without looking up from the computer screen.

“Thank you,” Dean says. He opens the top box and takes out a chocolate muffin. He sets it on the desk and smiles at her. “Merry Christmas.”

She lights up and takes the muffin. “Merry Christmas!”

With renewed bravery Dean finds the elevators. He’s bouncing his leg while he’s riding up and is in awe of the ward when he steps out of the elevator.

The ER had looked ordinary, but up here there were so many string lights, fir branches and decorations. He makes his way down what seems to be the main hallway and finds the nurses station. No one’s there, and he waits awkwardly.

A minute later a tall man wearing scrubs with an impressive jawline comes up to him. “Can I help you?”

“I wanted to give this to you guys,” Dean says. He holds out the box, and the man eyes it. “I work at the café down the street. It’s cookies and muffins. Merry Christmas?”

Now the man nods. “I remember Castiel telling us about this.” He takes the boxes and walks behind the desk and sets them down. “This is very generous.”

“Of course,” Dean says. “I hope everyone likes them.”

“I’ll set them up in the breakroom. The staff will love this.”

Dean gives him a thumbs up. “Do you know where Castiel is?”

The man nods to the right. “He was called into a patient’s room a few minutes ago. I know he hasn't taken his break yet. You can wait here.”

“Thanks,” Dean says. 

The man eyes him for a moment. “Are you Dean?”

“Uh,” Dean says. “Yeah?”

“I drove Castiel to your house once. He talks very highly of you.” He sounds sincere, and Dean can’t help but grin.

  
“I’m just here to provide muffins,” Dean says, and the man nods.

“Thank you again. I’ll make sure to visit your café soon.” He runs off again.

Dean checks his phone and sees a text from Charlie with a thumbs up emoji. As he scrolls through the checklist for tonight he suddenly hears Cas’ voice.

“—and tell Ethan to check on him later.”

Cas uses one of the disinfectant dispensers mounted on the wall outside the patient’s room, and as he rubs his hands he looks up and spots Dean. 

Dean waves.

Cas waves back, and a gentle smile spreads over his face. They’re 20 feet from each other and waving like idiots, but Dean’s just happy to see him. Cas slowly walks up to him, and Dean remembers he’s still wearing the Santa hat.

“Hey,” Dean says. “Merry Christmas.”

Cas looks like he’s trying not to laugh. 

“If you mock my fashion choices I’ll cry.”

“I would never,” Cas says. “It suits you.”

Dean grins. “Jawline says you haven’t taken your break yet. You hungry?”

“Jawline?”

Dean secretly points to the nurse running past them.

“Oh, that’s Gadreel,” Cas says. “And yes, I’m definitely hungry. You want to go down to the cafeteria?”

“Sure,” Dean says. “Lead the way.”

*

The cafeteria is pretty empty, and they pick a small table at the windows. The entire front of the cafeteria is glass, and they can watch the street and snow falling. Cas gets a coffee and Dean produces a napkin-wrapped muffin from his jacket and hands it to him.

“I’m the muffin fairy,” Dean says and Cas smiles at him again.

“Thank you,” he says and takes a bite. 

They sit in comfortable silence as Cas eats, and when he’s done he leans back. He takes another sip of his coffee, and fidgets. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

Cas is hesitant. “If I do something wrong you’d tell me?”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“This is still so new,” Cas says and he gestures between them. “I’m a bit nervous about the dinner later if I’m honest. I don’t want to do something silly, and make anyone dislike me.”

Dean shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “The others can be a lot and kinda just entertain themselves. You’re great, they’ll like you, and if not they gotta fight me about it.” 

Dean feels a blush creep up his neck. “So uh,” he scratches his head. “Back to your question? I mean yeah, I’d tell you if you were an ass or something, but you’ve been great so far. Straight A’s.”

Cas beams at him. “I’m glad to hear that, thank you. You’ve been nothing but amazing and caring to me as well. I’m very happy we’re friends.“

“Thank you for saying that,” Dean says quietly. 

“It’s the truth,” Cas says. “I’m gonna be done here at five, and now I really do look forward to the dinner.”

“Awesome,” Dean says. He takes a breath and decides to go for it. “I gotta leave then. If my crush is coming I need to look good.”

Cas almost drops his coffee. He saves it and looks at Dean, all soft and open. Dean grins. He gets up and pushes his chair back.

“Have a good rest of your break,” he says. “And see you later.” 

Cas nods, still looking at him, his cheeks rosy. 

*

As usual, dinner is a completely crazy affair. They give out food for anyone who needs it and can’t afford it otherwise, and then late in the afternoon they close up and begin to prepare the rest for themselves. 

The café is loud, toasty, and filled with people Dean loves, which is his favorite thing. Sam’s here with Eileen, Bobby and Charlie are chatting to and serving up Ellen. Jo is talking to Ash, and they’re laughing loudly together. There are so many friends he considers family that there’s barely any space left to move around. He looks at the clock and sees that Cas must be coming soon, so he disappears briefly to fix his hair and switch shirts. Everyone’s having drinks and appetizers, and Dean’s happy no one minds waiting.

It ends up being almost six when the door opens and Cas stumbles in. His cheeks are pink, his hair peeking out from under his hat and he looks chaotically cute. 

“Hey!” Dean gets up and helps him take off his jacket. “You okay?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, there was an emergency with one of the patients. They’re okay, but I couldn’t leave.”

“Let’s eat then,” Bobby barks, but his face is gentle and they shake hands before Cas awkwardly makes his way through chairs, bags and gifts to the empty chair next to Dean.

“Anyone want to say grace for themselves?” Bobby asks. “Let’s be quiet for a second.”

Comfortable silence falls over the group, and everyone’s looking at the table. Dean peers at Cas and sees him close his eyes and move his lips. When he finishes, Dean looks around and when he sees everyone else looking up, he raises his lemonade bottle.

“Dig in!”

He rests a hand on Cas’ leg for a moment while they start eating. 

Dean shovels honey-crusted ham and mashed potatoes into his mouth and argues loudly with Charlie over their favorite Star Trek ships. He watches Cas start to eat out of the corner of his eye, and feels content.

“Did you hit your head? Spirk all the way.”

“Dude,” Dean says, “Spones? Hello? We got tall, dark and handsome twice, one with sarcasm and one with that quiet sexy thing? Why are we even discussing this.”

“Unbelievable,” Charlie says, and she glances at Cas. “Not surprising though.”

Cas nudges Dean gently to ask for the water, and Dean opens the bottle and fills Cas’ glass up himself. 

“What’s not surprising?” he asks Charlie.

She nods towards Cas. “Tall, dark and handsome seems to be Dean’s thing.”

Dean almost drops the bottle, and Cas saves the full glass from toppling over. Dean knows how red he is, even though he’s already hinted his interest in Cas, but still.

“I don’t have a lot of ‘shipping’ thoughts,” Cas says and does air-quotes, actual air-quotes. “But if I’m tall, dark and handsome, then Dean is tall, blonde and um,” he falters for a moment, “caring?” There’s a definite rosy tone on Cas’ cheeks. “Which is unarguably _my_ thing.”

He drinks his water, and Dean looks at him like he’s hung the moon. Charlie drops their conversation and talks to Gilda; Sam’s talking to Eileen, and so Dean and Cas and their corner of the table are their own little universe.

“How’s Jawline?” Dean asks, and Cas smiles.

“Gadreel told me to relay that he enjoyed the chocolate chip cookies,” Cas says. “I think you’ll have a few more regulars soon.”

“Excellent business idea I had then,” Dean says. 

“No ulterior motives?”

“Me? Never.” 

  
They smile softly at each other and finish their meal. When Charlie and Sam bring out the desserts, Cas asks Dean to share a generous slice of cherry chocolate cake. They bring their chairs a little closer, each of them with a fork digging into the creamy dessert. Their knees bump, and Dean nudges Cas’ calf, and Cas nudges right back. 

They talk about Cas’ shift and mundane things, and Dean makes a mental note to ask Cas if he has any plans for New Year’s Eve. Gradually people get up and migrate to the kitchen until they’re the only ones left.

At some point Cas rubs his eyes, and he looks a bit tired. Dean stacks their plates and grins at him.

“Wanna go to my place to watch something?”

“I’d love to,” Cas says. 

They bring their dishes into the kitchen. Dean’s excluded from clean-up duty for cooking, and they excuse themselves to leave. Charlie is nowhere to be found, so him and Cas get dressed to leave. 

They’re on their way out of the café, Dean holding the door for Cas, when they hear a gasp. They stop and turn, and Charlie stands a few feet from them.

“Where did you disappear to? We wanted to say goodbye,” Dean says.

“ _Dean_ ,” Charlie says. “Look up.”

So Dean looks up, and Cas looks up, and then he realizes. 

They’re standing in the doorframe, and above them gently swings a sprig of mistletoe.

He looks at Cas, who looks right back at him. 

Dean leans forward slightly. “We don’t have to,” he says quietly. “We can just ignore them.”

“You can’t ignore the best thing about Christmas!” Charlie says.

Dean laughs and looks at her. “Charlie,” he says. “Really?”

And when he turns back, Cas is right there. His face is close enough that Dean feels his breath on his lips, and the warmth in Cas’ eyes overwhelms him. Dean’s eyes flick to Cas’ lips, only for a moment, but when he looks back up there’s a sparkle in Cas’ eyes, and then they close. 

Soft and warm lips touch his, and Dean closes his eyes too. There’s a beat where Cas pulls back infinitesimally, as if to check that this is okay, but Dean pulls him right back in. He slides his hand to the back of Cas’ neck, tilts his head and kisses him with every ounce of adoration he’s got. 

There’s a shuffle, a giggle, and they ignore it. Nothing matters, because finally, _finally_ they’re kissing, and Dean doesn’t want to stop. So they don’t. They hug close, hold each other, lips slotted together.

Snow continues to fall, and it’s Dean’s favorite Christmas. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you also liked the drawings, everything here was made with a lot of love. <3
> 
> I hope you're all healthy, safe, and happy. Have a wonderful holiday time!! <3


End file.
